A Surfeit of Quintos
by Silverfox1
Summary: Pery Rhodan fic: A rather unexpected event forces Ron Landry to ask Nike Quinto for help. Unfortunately Ron has no idea what he's let himself in for.


Disclaimer 1: This is fanfic. That means I do not own any of it. I just borrow it to play with for a little while and let people see the pathetic results if they really want to.

Disclaimer 2: I'm not making any money from it. It's just for fun.

A/N: I came up with two versions of this fic, but am only writing the more light-hearted version right now. I did start the other once and might post it someday, if I decided to complete it. For now ... enjoy a look into the Quinto home.

Prologue

"And why, pray, is this supposed to be my problem?" Nike Quinto shrilled.

Oh yes, he was in one of his most unpleasant moods. Not that Ron Landry had ever seen his boss in a remotely pleasant one.

"Why didn't you think to provide for such an emergency in time? And I am supposed to entrust the likes of you with the command of highly delicate operations on far away underdeveloped worlds! You are going to give me a heart attack! Really, I am surprised I haven't already dropped dead!"

Provide for the eventuality that he was driven out of his flat on the third floor of an apartment building in the city of Terrania, located in the middle of the Gobi desert, by a flood? Nobody had expected this. Nobody had been prepared for it in any way. Not even the people that had built the climate regulation system for the city had ever thought it remotely possible that it might suddenly decide to pour down enough water onto the city to flood several districts. Where was it even taking all that water from?

Ron glanced at the window. It was still pouring down in sheets.

Yet, if nobody had been expecting this, how came it that it was mostly the poorest districts that were flooded while the Administrator's seat and all the first quarters of the city had been built on higher ground? Was it really just coincidence?

Getting angry and voicing treacherous suspicions wouldn't help him now, though.

"Maybe you could send me on a mission," he suggested.

Then he could sleep in one of the comfortable quarters on a spaceship until he got there, and the planet he was sent to hopefully wouldn't be overrun by fellow evacuees stashed in every available room. By the time he returned his flat would be tolerably dry again ... or maybe all of Terrania would have sunk and well, at least he and Quinto would be in the same boat then. Though hopefully not literally.

"Do you know anything at all about modern agriculture?" Nike Quinto demanded.

"Agriculture? My area of expertise is physics," he reminded Quinto. "And mathematics. I'm also fluent in several programming languages."

He was also good with machines of all kinds and understood robots better than most people. Plants however, didn't really agree with him. They never had. Nor was he much better with animals.

"Then what pray am I supposed to do with you on a planet whose inhabitants are just making the step from nomadic hunter-gatherers to farmers? Don't look at me like that. That's the only mission that is starting today."

"Alright then ... don't we have some ship in the space-port that the department isn't currently using?" Ron begged.

"One," Quinto admitted. "An innocent old Tadpole that is nevertheless worth a lot more than you make in a year and a precious resource to boot."

"It's not going to suffer any damage if you just let me sleep in it for a few days."

"Do you imbecile seriously think that I want the only readily available emergency transport we have blown up? Oh my poor heart!" he started digging around in his pillbox again.

"Why should it blow up? I promise not to touch anything outside whatever cabin you choose to assign me. I've slept onboard a Tadpole before."

And commanded bigger ships. Ron was sure that Quinto ought to have trusted him to take the Tadpole for a little cruise around the solar system without it being any the worse for wear.

"Why should it not blow up?" Nike shrilled. "Laffayette's already on board. Do I really need to remind you what happened the last time you and Laffayette didn't touch anything?!"

Oh yes, Ron remembered. That arrogant prick had ... but no, he couldn't get angry now. He was desperate for a place to sleep tonight, even if he had to share it with Mayor André Laffayette.

"But this time there won't be any terrorists with a bomb involved," he reminded Quinto. "I'll stick to my cabin and Laffayette can stick to his. We won't even meet. I certainly don't want to meet him."

"And you certainly aren't going to. Do you have any idea what a mess you caused by bungling that mission? My blood pressure reached near fatal levels for several days. And then I had to beg the mutant corps for help. Beg! The Mutants! Do you realise the indignity of it?!"

Not to mention that Quinto must have had to explain it to the Administrator as well. If there was one embarrassing situation Ron Landry never wanted to have to face it was having to personally explain to Perry Rhodan that he had failed to fulfil his orders.

"Don't you have a spare couch somewhere?" he pleaded eyeing Quinto's office furniture wistfully. "Or maybe one of the hypno-beds?"

"What!" Quinto shot up straight in his chair jolting up the open pill-box and causing the pills to fly out arcing high over his head and then raining down all over his end of the office.

Ron blinked impressed. This part of the act was new.

"Do you have any idea how expensive and rare that hypno-schooling equipment is?"

Yes, a very good one. It was the fact that Quinto had repeatedly been willing to invest precious hypno-crystals in him that had led Ron to think that he might receive help from this man who had hardly ever given him any other sign of approbation.

"I won't touch anything else," he promised. "And Laffayette isn't in there."

Nike Quinto's lips twitched. "You are not going to make private use of department property is that understood!"

And just what was it Laffayette was doing with the Tadpole?

Ron stared at the floor. He had to sleep somewhere. Though he supposed he could try the car ... if only he weren't quite so long.

"Does the corridor floor count as department property?" That was long enough and dry which the street outside was not.

In his surprise Quinto actually fell silent.

"Very well, I'll take you in," he said finally. "But only until that flat of yours is dry and not a day longer. Now get out. I have to explain YOU to my wife."

And so, a few hours later Ron Landry found himself riding home with his boss in Quinto's glider. Well, he had been desperate enough to consider sharing quarters with Laffayette not so long ago. Surely he could cope with Nike Quinto. He'd been on a mission with the man before.

But of course back then each of them had had his own cabin. How closely would they be forced together at Quinto's home? If they had to share a bedroom ...

No, wait, Quinto had had to inform his wife of their unwanted house-guest. Surely he would not be tolerated in their shared bedroom.

Ron still couldn't quite wrap his mind around the existence of Mrs. Quinto. What woman would agree to marry a man this unattractive and unpleasant? As far as Ron was concerned Nike Quinto's only redeeming quality was his brilliance. For that he admired the man and forgave him quite a lot, but what did a woman want with intelligence?

Sure, she probably felt quite proud of it and his income had to be good, but could either make up for his looks and personality? Could a woman bring herself to sleep with ... that in return for material comfort?

Then again, maybe she wasn't even expected to. Maybe this was a marriage of convenience. Mrs. Quinto received enough pocket money to buy all the dresses and jewellery she desired, got to go to the opera and theatre whenever she liked and in return she made sure that the flat always was neat and spotless and there was a good meal on the table when Quinto came home from work. Yes, that had to be it.

The direction they were driving in seemed to confirm it. Unless they branched off into the suburbs soon they were going to one of the really posh parts of the city. Not that that really surprised Ron. Nike Quinto quite obviously had received at least one life extension and that meant that the Administrator himself had considered him too valuable to lose at the end of one natural life-span.

All things considered it was almost surprising that they were heading away from Goshul where Perry Rhodan himself and most of his inner circle lived.

Still, this part of the city was out of Ron's comfort zone. He came from much humbler circumstances and was quite content to consider himself lower middle-class these days.

"What?" Nike Quinto barked suddenly.

Apparently he had noticed the measuring glances Ron kept shooting at him whenever he wasn't looking out the window trying to guess their destination.

"Nothing," Ron said somewhat apologetically. "I just ... I didn't know you had a wife. I'm sure I've never heard you mention her."

"Of course not," Quinto barked. "My family's none of your business now, is it?"

"Well, no Sir. I just ... I suppose I thought I'd have heard her name or noticed a picture on your desk. Since I never did I formed the impression that you were single."

Quinto snorted. "And have you ever mentioned your family then? Am I to assume that except for whatever hussy you're currently shagging you are entirely alone in the world?"

Ron decided to ignore the hussy. It wasn't his fault that unattached young women had a way of throwing themselves at him and why should he not give them what they were asking for sometimes?

"Well, so I am," he stated instead. "As surely you could read in my personnel file. I'm an orphan, no siblings, no wife."

Silence.

"Then don't you think it's time to get one?"

Ron hesitated, but realised that it couldn't be helped.

"One what?" he asked steeling himself for another explosion of wrath. There was nothing Nike Quinto hated as much as stupid questions.

"Why, a wife, of course!" Apparently driving prevented Quinto from letting his outbursts have their full theatrical effect. Good to know. "You really ought to get to it if you intend to live to see your great-grandchildren."

Great-grandchildren? He'd never even thought about children! Not seriously at least.

"It isn't all that compatible with my job," he pointed out. "Just imagine if I'm killed on a mission. Where'd that wife and children be?"

"Probably heart-broken for a while, but they'd get over it and have a nice widow's pension to take care of any other problems that might come up," Quinto replied with a snort and finally took them off the main speed corridor into ... well, there probably was no risk of them having to share a bedroom after all. There weren't even any apartment houses here. These buildings were all comfortable large family homes better suited to families with three to five children than childless couples.

"I'm an orphan," Ron repeated. "I never knew my father. Or what it's like to have a family. Perhaps I don't want to do the same to my own child. Or perhaps it's that I can't miss what I've never had. Children have never figured in my plans."

Quinto didn't reply. He was busy parking the glider and Ron was glad for it because it gave him a chance to peer at the house through the rain and get used to the thought of actually living in there even if it was only as a guest for a few days.


End file.
